


driving

by memyselfandmine



Series: you put this kid behind the wheel, there's nothin he can't do [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Angst, Driving, Mentions of self-harm, Sorry guys, eh, i think, precanon, schools got me down, so its time for depressing introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 00:06:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15829695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memyselfandmine/pseuds/memyselfandmine
Summary: "Andrew didn’t like learning to drive, but he didn’t mind driving."Some speculation on Andrew learning to drive way back when.





	driving

**Author's Note:**

> Just throwing out some warnings for a brief mention of Andrew's self-harm. Also for Drake's general existence.

Andrew didn’t like learning to drive.

He and the rest of his class were forced to take Driver’s Ed, a class specifically designed to kill him slowly. The teacher, a sweaty, balding, overweight man who was also one of the gym teachers, was fond of reading directly out of the book and showing educational videos on how to use your turning signal. The mind-numbing qualities of the class and teacher allowed Andrew’s mind to wander more than he wanted it to (and that was dangerous; he wouldn’t allow it, not at school). 

His classmates obviously didn’t like it any more than he did but decided to cure their boredom through goofing off and whispering and passing notes and generally acting more irritating than the class itself. Andrew held a general distain for his class at large, but something about this particular mix of students mad him want to light the building on fire, or the students, or himself.

Once, the boy next to Andrew, Brian, tried to start a game of hangman with him in the corner of his notebook. Brian had reddish-brown hair and bangs that fell in front of his deep brown eyes in a way that had him constantly combing his fingers through his hair and had once been caught with a couple of other boys trying to release a cage full of rats from the biology lab into the math hallway. Sometimes it made Andrew’s gut clench unpleasantly to look at him, and Andrew hated that. Andrew stared him down until he ducked his head awkwardly and started a game with the less-threatening kid to his left. Andrew stared at the wall for the rest of the class, purposefully ignoring Brian’s fingers drumming on the table next to him. 

Generally speaking, his class was full of idiots. A few times, Andrew let himself try to think why exactly he hated them all so much, what exactly they were doing that filled him with so much rage. He realized they weren’t really idiots, but he and they weren’t the same. They could never be the same. They were just—naïve. His teacher was the same. He droned on and on about things Andrew already knew and didn’t care about, and his classmates didn’t know or care about. 

“Doe, are you gonna start taking notes eventually?” His Driver’s Ed teacher had asked him once. 

Andrew wasn’t feeling good that day. He was angry. He was sore. His patience, limited as it was, was worn thin. “I’ll take notes when you say something I don’t know,” Andrew had responded.  
The class oohed and laughed. The teacher’s face grew red. He pulled a sheet off his desk and scribbled on it, and all but slammed it on the empty notebook in front of Andrew. 

“You can take your detention during lunch tomorrow,” the teacher had growled. 

The class oohed again, snickering. When the teacher turned away, Brian nudged Andrew in the side with his elbow. 

“You gonna take that lying down, man?” he teased. Andrew stared at him expressionlessly. Brian gave him a funny look and turned away. 

The boy to Brian’s left, Robert, scoffed. “Don’t bother, Brian, look at his face. Doe’s left planet earth again.” They started talking about some football game that was on the other night. Andrew looked away.

Once, out of sheer boredom, he read the whole driver’s manual through. It took him one class period. After that, he tried to do his homework in class to fill the time, but the teacher wouldn’t let him. Now, he just stared at the wall and tried not to think.

They just knew nothing about the real world. They were children, and naïve like children. He was nothing like them at all.

 

Andrew didn’t like learning to drive, but he didn’t mind driving.

Andrew practiced with Richard in the passenger seat. Cass didn’t like driving that much (cars made her nervous, she explained), and she wouldn’t let Drake be the adult in the passenger seat when he practiced. It was something that a father would teach his son, she insisted softly. Besides, you two boys would just goof off if I let you drive off on your own. Drake told her that he would be a responsible older brother, but she insisted it was a father/son bonding activity.  
Andrew didn’t mind driving.

Richard was quiet—he complimented his wife’s soft enthusiasm. He was quiet and supportive where she was soft and nurturing, a solid foundation. If Andrew knew anything about families, he would’ve thought they were a good set of parents. Sometimes he wondered where they’d gone wrong with their son. He didn’t let himself think about that for very long.

“I know you’re smart, Andrew,” Richard had told him the first time he let Andrew drive the family Prius, just around the block. “I won’t get in your way when you’re driving. But I want you to use your smarts when you drive. When you drive, you’re taking on a lot of responsibility, for yourself, your passengers, and everyone on the road. You control your actions and shape the actions of other drivers. Don’t let it go to your head.”

After that, Richard didn’t talk too much. He corrected mistakes that Andrew sometimes made, going over the speed limit or rolling stops at stop signs. Sometimes he talked a little about work, or asked Andrew what they should get at the store for family dinner (they always asked him, but Andrew never suggested anything. He knew he’d just throw it all up later that night, alone in the bathroom, unable to keep anything down after goofing off with Drake after dinner). But other than that, he was quiet. It was the closest thing Andrew had to being alone, alone and in control, besides locking himself in the bathroom and controlling how much he bled out into the sink. This was a preferred alternative. 

Sometimes Andrew wished that Richard weren’t there at all, so he could go out on the highway and test just how fast he could go. He wanted to fly by and see everything else blur around him so his outsides would match his insides for once.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so I don't remember exact timelines, but we're assuming for the sake of the fic that Andrew was learned to drive when he was with the Spear's. Creative title, right?


End file.
